


Insult to Injury

by babiemarkie



Series: ceo = constantly emotionally overwhelmed [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Bottom Mark Lee (NCT), Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office Sex, Past Injury, Shower Hand Jobs?, Shower Sex, Spanking, Top Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, atrocious misuse of a desk, mild exhibitionism, no beta we die like men, they're in love just stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babiemarkie/pseuds/babiemarkie
Summary: "You knew," Donghyuck breathes, wrapping one hand around Mark's waist to hold him still. "You knew this was going to happen.""What can I say?" Mark shrugs as best he can from his position, smile widening. "You're a predictable man."Because being enemies with benefits is so much more fun than just plain enemies.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: ceo = constantly emotionally overwhelmed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020964
Comments: 30
Kudos: 367





	Insult to Injury

**Author's Note:**

> this is a series now apparently. everyone point and laugh. (but hey look at least we can all blame georgie!)  
> !!!! this can be read as a standalone, but there are references to the previous fic (up the wall) so… proceed as you wish :)  
> ceo series mark being petty as fuck for no reason is my lifeblood and i really took that to heart in the start of this fic. there’s no real reason i’m telling you this i just find it funny.  
> also if there are any inconsistencies or mistakes, please know that i didn't look this over AT ALL and refer to the last tag :)  
> [a quick but necessary thank you to andy and imel for powering me through this ily]

If Mark’s memory serves him correctly—and he’s willing to bet every Rolex he owns that it does—it all starts with that goddamn desk.

The big, expensive, mahogany one he has hauled into his new office when his previous one breaks in the middle of a conference call for seemingly no reason. The one that maybe is a touch more expensive than it has to be, but Donghyuck doesn’t check the company finances nearly as often as he should, so Mark shouldn't have a problem slipping it by him with a bit of luck.

Unfortunately, luck decides to toss him the biggest middle finger, and Mark wants to redirect it to whoever decided it was a good idea to have his office moved right across the hall from Donghyuck’s in their new building.

It means that every time Mark peeks out, he can see straight into Donghyuck’s office because that man _never_ closes the door for whatever reason. More often than not, it ends up with Mark having to hurriedly shut his own door immediately because Donghyuck always seems to catch his eye just to give him _that look,_ and Mark can’t stand it.

They haven’t really talked about what happened that night so many months ago, and nothing of the sorts has happened since, but Mark can still feel Donghyuck’s phantom lips on his skin, the ghost of those fingers that had made him tremble, the long-gone remnants of an ache from being so deliciously split open by—

Mark sighs, rubbing his temples as he leans against the doorframe of his office. He’s pointedly not meeting the piercing gaze Donghyuck is giving him from where he’s leaning back against his own desk across the hall, one leg delicately crossed in front of the other, an immaculate eyebrow raised, phone up to his ear on some business call that Mark fortunately doesn’t have to be a part of. It’s almost as if Donghyuck can hear all of his thoughts. Mark hates it.

The ring of the phone on his own desk snaps Mark back to reality, and he spins around, only managing to swing his door halfway shut before going to answer it. 

“Mark Lee.”

“Your desk has arrived. Should I send it in?” It’s Jaemin, his secretary.

“That would be great. You caught me at a good break.”

“It’s kind of my job, sir,” Jaemin snickers before hanging up. He’s probably getting at something that’s going straight over Mark’s head, but Mark can’t be bothered to call him back and ask.

Mark clears everything off of his makeshift desk—comprised of an end table from the floor lobby and a folding card table that Jaemin managed to scrounge up from some supply closet somewhere—and moves it in parts to make room for the new one. He mourns the fact that he’ll have to reorganize everything into new places and get used to it again, but it’ll be worth the effort in the long run. 

Just as he’s pulling the card table to the side, a knock on the door alerts him of the two people lugging in a desk that barely fits through the doorway, Jaemin following right behind. Mark directs them to where he’d like it placed, then lets himself stand back next to Jaemin and watch them.

Maybe Mark’s enjoying himself a little more than he strictly should, watching the two attractive, muscled workmen manhandle the desk to Mark’s command, but it’s no matter. He’s an adult bisexual man with functioning eyes, and he should be allowed to appreciate what’s in front of him. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Jaemin mutters, elbowing him. Mark just grins in reply. He gets another elbow in the side for that. “You sure you’re not just doing this to make Donghyuck jealous?”

That takes Mark aback. “What? Why would he be—” he glances up to see the reflection in the window and understands— “Ah, I see.” From this angle, Mark can see that Donghyuck is standing just inside his own office, fuming, and alternating glaring daggers at Mark and the workmen, neither of whom pay him any mind. “I can neither confirm nor deny the accusation.” Mark has to force down the smile that threatens to curve at the edge of his lips in case Donghyuck catches sight of him.

Jaemin scoffs, “You’re unbelievable.”

“It actually wasn’t intentional, for your information,” Mark whispers. “It’s just a byproduct that I’m certainly not upset with.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna stop moping over him at some point?” Jaemin pulls a face. “I’m really sick of it.”

“I am _not—”_

“Oh yes you are, don’t even try to pull that shit with me. I mean that with the utmost respect, sir,” Jaemin adds on hastily, remembering that they’re still in a professional environment where Mark is his boss. “I have my own assumptions of what happened between you two since you won’t tell me anything, but when I say all I want for you is to be happy, I mean it.”

Mark gives him a small smile, finally tearing his eyes away from the workers as they double check the positioning of the desk. “Thanks, Jaem.”

“Any time,” he replies before turning back to the workers. “Thank you, now if you’d be so kind as to assist me with…”

Mark tunes Jaemin out as he meets Donghyuck’s eye in the reflection of the glass. He shivers, unable to help himself, and Donghyuck only gets to flash him a sly grin before Mark turns his focus away and onto the workers who Jaemin has somehow coerced into taking the now-unnecessary tables out of the office. 

“Thank you.” Mark inclines his head, and the workers kindly respond with bows of their own before shuffling out of the door, ushered away by Jaemin. He flashes Mark a meaningful look that Mark can’t decipher and then leaves, closing the door behind him.

Mark sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s too tired for this. Not even twenty-six and already burnt out on life. Or at least men. This really can’t be healthy.

 _God,_ Mark needs to get laid. Preferably by a man with a sharp smile and a sweet voice that has an office across the hall from him and is named Lee Donghyuck, but Mark’ll take what he can get at this point. He’s barely had enough time to breathe with the last merger that took up more of his nights this past month than sleep has, but now that they’re riding out the coattails of it, Mark might be able to allow himself room to think about something other than stocks and numbers and salaries.

But today will not be that day, Mark mourns as he looks at all of the documents he has stacked up in piles, waiting for him to read through.

He’s fifteen pages deep into last quarter’s financial report when the door to his office opens with no warning. Mark doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is, and has to swallow down a smile, lest he encourage the behavior.

“I’m quite busy at the moment. You may talk to Jaemin and he can pencil you in for some time later this afternoon or tomorrow if you wish to have a meeting.”

“You’re too busy reading—” Donghyuck closes the door behind him and strides over to peek at the documents— _“financial reports_ to talk with me?” He gasps, feigning offence. “I feel personally slighted by this.”

Mark doesn’t spare him a glance, underlining something in red ink before flipping to the next page. “Good.” He doesn’t even know what he underlined; he just needs to look busy.

An uncomfortable silence falls between them. 

“What do you want, Lee?” Mark gives in, setting the pen down to look up at him.

“Still on that last name bullshit?” Donghyuck questions. “We’ve talked about this.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Well, are you asking what I _want_ or what I _came in_ here for, because those would be two different answers,” he says, picking at his nails.

Mark frowns. “What?”

“I came in here to ask you about the specifications of one of the merger contracts, but as for what I want…” He trails off, a slick smile making its way onto his face. “Well…” He rakes his eyes up Mark in a way that makes him feel like he’s being turned inside out by the mere gaze.

“Well, what?” Mark prompts, fighting to keep his voice even. “Spit it out.”

“You’re smart,” Donghyuck says, “read between the lines, Markie.”

“You’ve said all of two things since you came in, there really isn’t that much to read between,” Mark growls. “And don’t call me that.”

Donghyuck sighs, leaning across the desk until he’s almost nose to nose with Mark, who’s sitting in the chair, gripping the arms for dear life. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you?”

“I’m afraid so.” The words are barely whispered, but they seem deafening to Mark’s ears.

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?”

And then he leans in to kiss him.

Mark doesn’t respond out of sheer shock, his mind short-circuiting completely until Donghyuck pulls back, eyes unsure all of a sudden, their cocky gleam nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck, I’m sorr—”

Mark doesn’t even let Donghyuck finish before he’s grabbing him by the tie and pressing their lips together hungrily. Donghyuck flails for a moment, surprised by the vigor of Mark’s response, but maneuvers the rest of the way around the desk, hauling Mark to his feet in the process so they end up chest-to-chest, the backs of Mark’s knees knocking into the seat of his chair.

Donghyuck grabs at the lapels of Mark’s jacket, holding him close at Mark licks into his mouth with a kind of unprecedented eagerness that surprises even himself. Thankfully, Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind all that much, responding in kind before pulling back.

“Mark, I want to—”

“Yeah,” Mark pants, not even needing to hear the rest.

“Are you—”

_“Yes.”_

It takes less than a minute after that for Mark to lose his jacket and tie, and Donghyuck opens his shirt so hastily that Mark’s relatively sure a button goes flying off but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Donghyuck’s kissing him like _this:_ hot and greedy and consuming. Mark tangles his fingers in Donghyuck’s hair, manually tilting his head to get a better angle because he simply can’t get enough.

But as much as he likes the kissing, Mark has priorities, and he’s been thinking about touching Donghyuck’s skin again for much too long to pass up the opportunity now that it’s here in front of him, presented on a veritable silver platter.

Barely managing to keep their lips connected, Mark yanks off Donghyuck’s tie and fumbles with the buttons of Donghyuck’s shirt before wrenching it open and shoving both it and his suit jacket off his shoulder in one fell swoop.

Meanwhile, Donghyuck has busied himself with wrangling Mark’s belt open and tugging it out of the loops on his slacks. He palms at Mark’s semi—when did he even get hard?— before stripping down Mark’s pants and briefs in one movement.

Mark barely gets to step out of his slacks before he’s choking on a cry, Donghyuck’s hand on his bare cock, the slide dry and bordering on painful. He doesn’t prolong it, though, instead opting to turn Mark around and bend him over the center of the desk, knocking things over that neither of them are concerned with at the moment as Mark’s chest makes contact with the dark mahogany.

It’s immensely satisfying, the way he can _feel_ the way Donghyuck's eyes drag down his back to the curve of his thighs before immediately shooting back to his ass. He can't stop the smile that spreads across his face, but he isn't really sure if he wants to. Out of every day for this to end up happening, Mark’s glad it’s today. 

"See something you like?" Mark asks, looking back over his shoulder to see Donghyuck's eyes still trained on him. With a barely-there shake of his hips, Donghyuck moves his accusing glare up to meet Mark's smug grin.

"You knew," he breathes, wrapping one hand around Mark's waist to hold him still, the other moving to thumb at the little metal plug that's nestled comfortably in his hole. "You knew this was going to happen. You seduced me."

Mark's smile only widens because he can't really _deny it._ "What can I say?" He shrugs as best he can from his position. "You're a predictable man."

What Mark _doesn't_ say is that he'd awoken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, half hard, the image of Donghyuck's hands roaming his body still concerningly vivid whenever he tried to close his eyes. He couldn't sleep after that, instead choosing to finger himself open as the sun rose, finally letting himself reach his climax as the cusp of dawn coated the world in a rosy hue. In a split-second decision that he has yet to regret, he'd slid the plug into himself with shaking fingers, unable to stand the thought of going the entire day without being filled by _something._

Truthfully, Mark had no idea that today would turn out like this—although he most certainly isn't _arguing—_ but he's not going to tell Donghyuck that. It's much too entertaining to have the upper hand right now, and he has absolutely no intention of letting it go with something as simple as the admission that he came this morning with Donghyuck's name on his lips.

No, that would be an admission of vulnerability, and Mark knows what happened last time he did that around Donghyuck.

He left, and it hurt a lot more than Mark thought it would. He won't allow himself to make the same mistake again. But as much as he likes being prepared for things, likes being one step ahead and always in control of the situation, Mark is slowly coming to the realization that this can't always be the case when Donghyuck is involved.

Especially not right now because he is neither prepared for, nor expects, Donghyuck's palm to come down on the swell of his ass hard enough to jolt Mark forward.

Mark gasps in surprise, sliding forward on the desk a bit. He has to reach up onto his tiptoes to keep contact with the ground, hands flying out to grasp at the edge of the rich mahogany as Donghyuck strokes over the spot he just smacked. He knocks a stack of documents to the side in his frenzy, but neither of them can be bothered to deal with that right now.

"How was _that_ for predictable, Mark?" he hisses, eyes narrowed. Mark refuses to give him the satisfaction he's so clearly looking for, the obvious answer he craves, instead simply opting to look back at Donghyuck, coy smile curling its way onto his lips once more.

Donghyuck growls and smacks him again, right in the same spot, palm flat to the skin to distribute the sting. Mark nearly chokes on his own tongue, fingers tightening their grip on the edge of the desk until his knuckles turn white. The sound of the slap still rings in his ears.

"Answer the question, sweetheart," Donghyuck commands, palms sliding beneath Mark's shirt, nails scraping gently up his back. Mark shivers. "I can keep this up all day."

"Do your worst," Mark taunts, bracing himself for another hit. But it doesn't come. He looks back and sees a cocky, knowing smile planted on Donghyuck's lips. His blood runs cold.

Oh no.

"You want me to keep doing this because you _like it,"_ Donghyuck concludes, thoroughly amused. "You're getting off on this, aren't you?"

He runs a hand over Mark’s flank gently, fingers pausing to trace each dip and curve in the muscles that lie just beneath the smooth skin, quivering in anticipation. Mark apparently can’t collect himself and reply quickly enough for Donghyuck’s taste because there are two more hits coming down in rapid succession, each stinging deliciously. Mark is sent jolting forward with the force of it, tightening his grip on the edge of the desk to keep his feet on the ground.

“Oh my, would you look at that?” Donghyuck muses, a little mocking gasp leaving his mouth as he leans down to whisper into Mark’s ear. “You _do_ like this.” It’s not a question.

Mark grits his teeth. “What makes you think that?”

Without warning, Donghyuck reaches around Mark’s hips to grasp at his drooling cock, making Mark buck wildly at the sudden stimulation.

“You’re absolutely _leaking,_ baby, look at how wet you are for me.” Donghyuck takes his hand away, leaving Mark caving into the edge of the desk for some semblance of friction. He blinks and Donghyuck’s fingers are in front of him, prodding at his lips. Without question or hesitation, Mark opens up, accepting the precome-coated digits with gusto, lapping and sucking at them until all that’s left is the taste of Donghyuck. “So hard and eager for me too, hmm?”

Mark pulls back, Donghyuck’s fingers leaving the seal of his lips with a distinctly wet _pop._ “Lee, would you get a _move on?”_ he urges. “Enough teasing already.”

“Alright, alright,” Donghyuck concedes, backing off. Mark cranes his neck around to watch Donghyuck as he reaches into his back pocket and comes out with two distinct packets: lube and a condom.

Mark scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “And you were saying that _I_ was the one prepared to seduce _you?”_

Donghyuck shrugs, setting the packets down on the desk next to Mark so he can unbuckle his belt. “I like to be prepared at all times.”

“Lee Donghyuck.” Mark levels him with a stare. “You have a _condom_ and _lube_ in your pocket. We’re at _work._ What else would you have been planning?”

“Maybe I wanted a quickie with the janitor, Mark, who are you to judge?”

The janitor is a wrinkly, grumpy white man in his sixties. Mark doubts it.

“Right.”

“Look,” Donghyuck sighs, stepping out of his shoes without untying them so he can shake his pants off, “do you want to get fucked or not?”

“It was a valid question,” Mark replies, stretching out on the desk so his back arches and his ass is raised. “Wouldn’t put it past you,” he blatantly lies.

Donghyuck slaps his ass again for that one, but Mark can see the smile he’s fighting to keep down. 

“Behave,” is all he says before nudging at the plug with a knuckle to test the waters. Mark hisses, calves tightening as he fucks it back in once, twice, _three times,_ before pulling it out entirely. He can feel himself clenching around nothing as Donghyuck puts the plug down on the desk up by Mark’s face, as if to remind him of his own sins.

Thankfully enough, Donghyuck doesn’t let Mark stay empty for long. Immediately following the telltale rip of the first packet and the familiar feeling of something cold and viscous drizzling into his hole, two of Donghyuck’s fingers find home inside of him.

Mark groans, forehead hitting the desk as Donghyuck makes quick work of scissoring him open and adding a third finger. He’s not quite as meticulous as he was last time, but Mark is more than okay with that; he’ll probably burst into flames if he doesn’t get a dick in him in the next two minutes. 

As if Donghyuck can hear his thoughts—which Mark is half-convinced that he really _can_ by this point—he pulls his fingers out and grabs the little foil square on the desk. Mark turns just enough to watch him rip it open with his teeth and roll it on in one smooth movement.

Before Mark can even open his mouth to spur him along, Donghyuck grips Mark’s waist with one hand and guides himself in with the other, no warning given. All Mark can do is gasp and moan, fingers twitching against the wood of the desk as he’s filled up immeasurably, thighs shaking as Donghyuck’s hips slowly press flush against his ass.

It takes an aborted moment, but as soon as Mark has his bearings back enough to speak, he gives one simple word: “Move.”

And Donghyuck heeds without further delay, pulling back before slamming in so hard the entire desk shakes with the force of it. If Mark had the mind to say something about how they shouldn’t be breaking his second desk the day he got it, he would, but he’s no longer in control of the syllables falling from his lips.

It feels like his ears are stuffed with cotton, every sound muted from the sharp slap of skin to the broken pleas and variations on Donghyuck’s name that come from his own mouth. A hand comes to rest at the back of his neck, pushing it down while the other hauls Mark’s hips up higher. The angle is unforgiving in the way Donghyuck brushes by Mark’s prostate with every slide in, now, and Mark has to bite his own fist to keep from crying out.

He can feel himself getting close embarrassingly fast, heat rising in his gut before he can even think about holding himself back. Everything is hot and fast and messy, like Mark expected it to be, but there’s an edge to it—something a little _more_ that Mark can’t quite put into words. He doesn’t know if it’s from the way Donghyuck’s hands never stop exploring as if they’ll discover new skin, or how Mark’s fucking himself back on Donghyuck’s cock to meet every thrust, or if it’s the soft, indecipherable words Donghyuck’s murmuring. He wishes he could know, but he finds himself caught up with hurtling towards his impending orgasm too fast to care about much else.

The boiling crescendo reaches fever pitch in his body, and Mark shudders, crying out. He’s on the cusp of coming, Donghyuck powering into him from behind, each thrust moving the entire desk under Mark’s body. It’s hot, so hot, he’s so close, everything’s going white and—

The phone rings. Donghyuck stops sharp. Mark collapses onto the desk with a sob, just short of the precipice, cool mahogany against his flushed, sweat-beaded chest.

“Lee, what the—”

“Answer it.”

"What—?" Mark sputters, struggling to get a grip on himself and wrap his head around what he's being told at the same time. Before he can get any more words out, the warm hands on his waist glide to support his chest and lean him back until he's standing upright. Somehow, miraculously, without taking his cock out, Donghyuck manages to maneuver the two of them back into the plush leather chair, Mark seated firmly on his lap. The ringing phone is still within reach on his desk.

"Answer it," Donghyuck repeats, breath hot against the nape of Mark's neck, using his hands to keep Mark's thighs spread wide open.

"That's ludicrous," Mark rebukes, turning his head to meet Donghyuck's gaze. "You're absolutely insane if you think I'm going to answer the phone at work while your dick is in me."

Donghyuck shrugs, picking at his nails. "I won't finish fucking you unless you pick it up."

"That's just as much of a punishment for you as it is for me," Mark points out with a scoff.

"Wouldn't you like to think that, hmm?" Donghyuck meets his gaze with a single, raised eyebrow.

Mark pauses. His entire string of logic regarding Donghyuck has been hinged off of the fact that Donghyuck feels the same about their little unspoken arrangement as Mark does, and it stings that this is the first time where Mark is forced to step back and face the reality of it all. Donghyuck couldn't care any less about Mark, and it's clear through the way he acts around him. Mark had just been determined to ignore it and live in blissful ignorance. The way Donghyuck speaks to him, uses him, and then leaves him whenever he decides he's had his fill. He can't make it any clearer, and it's time for Mark to face the music.

Donghyuck clearly doesn't regard Mark as anything but a vexing colleague at best and a warm hole to fuck at worst. The utter lack of respect in, at bare minimum, their professional relationship _should_ be a lot more concerning. Mark _should_ care, but he can't bring himself to—at least not right now. He'll probably have a mental breakdown over it later when he can let himself cry in the safety of his own home, but he can't afford to do that right now. Showing vulnerability right now will only get himself hurt.

After a moment's hesitation, Mark makes up his mind. He reaches forward and picks up the phone, holding it to his ear. He feels the way Donghyuck draws back a bit in surprise that Mark gave in at all, let alone this easily. But damn it all because if Donghyuck wants a warm hole to fuck that he can do as he pleases with, Mark's going to be the best one he's ever had. He just doesn't want to think about Donghyuck doing this with someone else once he inevitably gets bored of Mark.

"This is Mark Lee," he greets, schooling his voice into something he's more used to: something that's much colder, molded for the cutthroat business interactions he has to deal with daily.

"Hello, Mr. Lee. This is Chairman Jung. I have a few questions regarding one of the proposals in the last meeting and was wondering if you had some time to go over them."

"Ah, of course Chairman Jung," Mark says smoothly, letting Donghyuck hook his chin over Mark's shoulder to listen in. "What can I do for you?"

It all starts out alright, but being able to feel Donghyuck inside of him, so hot and huge and heavy, stretching him out unimaginably, begins to become a bit of a distraction. He can't move or gain friction for the sake of the burning need for pleasure because he risks one of the board members being clued in on exactly what's going on right now, which is most certainly not something Mark needs to deal with.

Donghyuck, unfortunately, seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself, especially when he starts rocking up into Mark slowly. His auditory processing hits rock bottom, words becoming mush before they even hit his ears, as he struggles to stay even mildly coherent on the call, using coughing to cover up the gasps and hiccups that spill from his lips, unwarranted and unwanted. Tears start leaking from the corner of his eyes as he tries to wrap things up, his voice wavering and watery. 

It's important that he pays attention to this because it's _Chairman Jung_ who, no matter how long Mark has been friends with him for, takes this company and all of its business endeavors extraordinarily seriously, and would take a long time to forgive Mark for not paying attention to a call as important as this. If he screws this up, he'll have the entire board, as well as Donghyuck, on his ass about it, but _Donghyuck_ is the one distracting him right now and it just seems that there's no way to win. 

A single tear slips down Mark's cheek as he stammers for the second time in the same sentence. His head starts clouding over and he can't think straight. He furrows his brow, trying to see through all the fog clogging up his mind as he fumbles with his words. More tears gloss his vision as a byproduct of the irritation he feels with himself.

Mark _knows_ he's better than this, that he's above all the shit he's letting Donghyuck put him through, that he really shouldn't be so affected by this, that he's weak for letting all of it get to him, that he's not good enough—

He doesn't even get to finish the thought before the rocking stops and Donghyuck is gently prying the phone out from his white-knuckled grip. Mark suddenly realizes he isn't breathing and takes in a shuddering gasp as Donghyuck wraps an arm around his stomach and pulls him close.

Mark lets himself go limp, head falling back onto Donghyuck's shoulder as he fights to get a grip on reality again—to get his head to clear and his lungs to function and his heart rate to slow and the tears to stop falling. He vaguely recognizes the rumble of Donghyuck's professional voice, the one specifically tailored to sit lower in his chest and be a touch more intimidating, but it's as if he's trying to hear through water.

He catches his own name a couple of times, the company name, but other than that, Mark is too far gone within the recesses of his own mind to decipher what's going on. He hates it; he hates how easily he slips when it comes to Donghyuck, how weak Donghyuck makes him feel simply because Mark can't change how he's wired to be as a person.

Heaving in another shaky breath, Mark blinks up at the ceiling, willing the tears to go away. 

Huh.

Has it always been that shade of white? He'd swear it was more of a cream color—

Lips press against the side of his neck, jolting him out of his thoughts. Mark blinks hard, registering that the phone is back in its cradle on the desk, and all of Donghyuck's attention is back on him. Mark tries to squirm a little, as if he can worm his way out of the unwavering attention, but the hands at his waist keep him still.

"Did I push too far?" Donghyuck murmurs, a gentle kiss finding its way just behind Mark's surely-rose-tipped ear.

"No, no, I'm fine," Mark insists— _lies._

"I need you to be honest with me, Mark," Donghyuck coaxes, thumbs tucking themselves just under where Mark's ribs begin comfortably. It's like they're meant to be there. "Did I push too far?"

A beat of silence. Mark stares resolutely at the not-cream-colored ceiling. He hates admitting weakness in front of anyone, and Donghyuck is certainly no exception. In fact, Mark's reasonably sure he hates it even _more._

"Mark," he prompts softly, as if afraid that if he speaks any louder Mark might run off. "Was it too much?"

Mark, unable to hold back, chokes out a strangled, "Yes," before turning his head away from Donghyuck's, ashamed. He isn't sure if the heat on his cheeks is rising from embarrassment or frustration, but he wants it to go away.

Donghyuck wraps his arms around Mark's torso, hugging him impossibly closer as he plants kisses along Mark's shoulder and the curve of his neck. "I'm sorry," he says. "You were clearly uncomfortable with it and I forced you into that situation without checking beforehand or giving you an out. That was unacceptable and I apologize."

He sounds sincere, but Mark isn't sure if that's just the way his brain wants to hear it.

"It's alright," Mark croaks.

"No, it's not!" Donghyuck refutes, upset suddenly. "You were in a vulnerable state and I took advantage of that for my own sexual gain, so don't you _dare_ say that's alright."

Donghyuck is heated now, and Mark's head is clear. He can think and see straight, can work his muscles in the way that they should be able to move. He flexes his fingers carefully, contemplating his next words before he realizes he doesn't _need_ words.

He and Donghyuck don't have to talk about anything because there's nothing to talk about. They're glorified fuckbuddies, despite this only being the third time they've done anything, and the second time within the past four years. They don't owe each other anything, and certainly not apologies, regardless of how desired they may be.

It's weird to think that they were in love, once upon a time. But maybe it wasn't love, after all. They were young and stupid and didn't have responsibilities yet, and despite how beautiful their first time together was and how often Mark thinks back to that night when he's alone, he doubts anything can rectify the Donghyuck he knew then and the Donghyuck here now.

It's easy to remember the lovely words that Donghyuck had whispered into his skin as he pressed into Mark for the very first time, the way he'd held Mark with all of the care in the world, the soft caresses that made Mark feel like he was on top of the world. It's even easier to remember how he'd left that morning without so much as a word, and never spoke to or looked Mark the same way after, trading discreet, flirting glances for cold, callous stares. At least until the second night they spent together, when Mark got a glimpse of the old Donghyuck again, and wanted nothing more than to grab a hold of him and never let go.

But it wasn't his place, so he'd let Donghyuck slip through his fingers for the second time, but it had hurt no less. The thing is, though, Donghyuck isn't leaving now, and that's what's confusing Mark. He isn't just upping and leaving the moment Mark becomes any less than ideal.

He finally glances over to really _look_ at Donghyuck for the first time since they sat down, and he sees the little furrow between his brows present. The one he only gets when he's let his guard down and is genuinely worried. Donghyuck's mumbling on about safewords, and Mark wants to cry again.

It's with no shortage of shame that Mark realizes that there are two sides to this story. Sure, Mark's has a lot of pain and heartbreak, but he has no idea what Donghyuck's is, or what it might hold. All he knows is that maybe after all these years, they can finally have a decent talk about things, settle the cold war that's been brewing since the summer Mark turned nineteen.

However, Mark resolves, talking can be done later when both of them have been adequately sated which he, for one, is most certainly not.

"Hyuck," Mark breathes. Donghyuck looks at him, startled, eyes wide and blinking hard.

He's beautiful. Mark kisses him with everything he has.

Donghyuck makes an irritatingly adorable noise of surprise but responds with equal fervor, cupping Mark’s jaw to angle it more comfortably.

“Wait, wait,” Donghyuck pants, pulling back. “Can I…?” He reaches down between Mark’s spread legs to thumb at where they’re connected, Donghyuck’s cock still sitting hard inside of him, searing him from the inside out. Mark jolts at the touch.

“No,” Mark replies, shaking his head. Donghyuck reels back, mouth opening in preparation to spill a hundred apologies when Mark simply draws him into another kiss to shut him up before he can get a word out. “You weren’t even going to let me finish,” Mark accuses when he pulls back.

Donghyuck squints at him, confused. “If you don’t want to do this, then—”

“All I meant was that we are not going to fuck on my chair, got it? It’s brand new and if it ends up with stains, I’m going to kill you.” Mark sends a sidelong look to Donghyuck when he starts smiling. “The desk is newly off limits, too.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.” Donghyuck pouts, but it’s impossible to miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye. He leans forward, lips grazing Mark’s ear. “So what’s the plan then, sweetheart?” Donghyuck whispers.

Mark can’t help the way his eyes drift to the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows slowly, thinking of all the clueless people down below, thinking up all sorts of positions they could be in. He has to close his eyes for a moment to pull himself out of that train of thought; it might be pushing it too far. His gaze flicks elsewhere, but it snaps back to Donghyuck when he feels him chuckle.

“What?” Mark asks, defensive.

“You want me to fuck you by the window? Really?” Donghyuck runs a finger up the inside of Mark’s thigh, stopping just short of where Mark needs him the most. He shivers so violently that Donghyuck has to hold his waist to keep him steady on his lap—seated squarely on his cock—with a tsk. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more predictable.”

“I never said—”

“Words aren’t necessary, Mark,” Donghyuck teases, kissing the base of his throat. “Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.”

“Hey, that’s— _ah, Donghyuck…!”_ Mark tries to be stern, he really does, but it’s impossible not to melt once Donghyuck starts spreading warm kisses along the column of his throat

“Is that alright, then?” he asks, lips tracing the veins beneath Mark’s skin that thunder with all the emotions he’s begging to keep hidden. “If I fuck you by those huge, glass windows so everyone down below can see just how much you love my cock, how much you _need it?”_

It won’t stay that way for long, but Mark’s still clear-headed when he gives a breathy, affirmative, “yes,” aimed up at the ceiling because he can’t bring himself to meet Donghyuck’s eyes after the filth that he just spouted.

He nearly yelps in surprise when Donghyuck hoists him off his cock and out of his lap completely, standing him up between his legs. Mark has to ball his hands into fists against his thighs, biting his lip to keep from whining when that dreaded cold, empty feeling sweeps through him.

Attempting a step backwards only results in his knees buckling, one distinctly more painful than the other. Before Mark can catch himself on the edge of the desk, a pair of arms finds their way around his waist, supporting him. Donghyuck’s suddenly standing up—although Mark can’t tell exactly when that happened—with his body pressed perpendicular to Mark’s side, chin resting gently on the edge of his shoulder.

“Leg?” Donghyuck asks, but it’s not really a question. There’s no sense in lying or trying to hide anything else at this point. It’s not like Donghyuck doesn’t _know,_ but even if he forgot the story, Mark’s sure the ugly array of scars streaked along his entire right leg are enough of a reminder.

“Yeah,” Mark sighs, shifting his weight off of his bad leg which, by extension, means relaxing into Donghyuck’s hold.

“Hmm.”

Donghyuck offers no further comment or insight, which Mark has come to notice seems to be a theme when it comes to his leg. After conference meetings when the muscles are stiff and he stumbles a bit getting up, Donghyuck is always somehow miraculously there to stand in front of him until he can regain his balance. Or during those stuffy cocktail parties when Mark has been standing for too long, Donghyuck is always the one to instigate sitting down first, claiming fatigue, so Mark doesn’t have to explain himself. Or during that luncheon just last week when Donghyuck had let Mark sling an arm around him for a photo, and then didn’t say a word when Mark only let go once he’d used him as a crutch to stand.

It’s not like it happens very often anymore, but the more Mark thinks about it, the more he realizes just how much Donghyuck has been there for him, all without saying a damn word. How curious. As much as Mark would love to assume ulterior motives, maybe… maybe it actually _means_ something.

Mark opens his mouth to ask about it, but is hushed by Donghyuck as he gently shifts around until he is face to face with Mark. A split second later, Mark’s feet are no longer touching the ground.

Letting out a rather undignified cry, he clenches his thighs around Donghyuck’s hips, hands grabbing at his shoulders to keep balanced as Donghyuck walks them over to the window. Mark lets out a huff when the heated skin of his back finally makes contact with the cool glass, but it does nothing to lower the rest of his elevated body temperature.

With no shortage of chagrin, Mark realizes that it’s reminiscent of the way Donghyuck had him pinned against his penthouse door the last time they fucked: Mark’s toes scrambling to touch the ground, the growing sense of both arousal and helplessness, Donghyuck firm and warm and _here_ beneath his white-tipped fingers.

Donghyuck smirks. “I seem to recall you liking this position.”

“Shut up,” Mark growls.

“Nope,” Donghyuck replies cheekily, full-on grinning now. “Because this is what you wanted, right? For everyone to see how their perfect little Mark Lee not only takes everything I give him behind closed doors, but begs me for it too? How you beg me for _more?”_

“I—” Mark’s breath hitches as Donghyuck presses up against him, Mark’s cock caught between them.

“Hmm?” He hums, teeth grazing Mark’s collarbone. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Mark whines, digging his fingers into Donghyuck’s chest, unable to collect himself enough to give a decent answer. His mind is muddled, oversaturated with thoughts indistinguishable from one another because they’re nothing but Donghyuck’s name and various iterations of _please._

“Alright, but I can’t fuck you like this.” Donghyuck lets Mark down carefully, pressing a careful kiss to his lips once he’s steady on his own two feet again. “You good?”

“Great,” Mark replies, breathless.

Donghyuck nods, curling a hand around the nape of Mark’s neck to pull him in once more to seal their mouths together hotly. Mark is out of his mind with want, his whole body overheating with the overwhelming need to get Donghyuck in him and _fast._

“Hyuck,” he pants, the nickname lost on the surface of Donghyuck’s tongue as he laps it up eagerly. “C’mon, get to it.”

Before he can blink, Donghyuck spins him around. Mark barely has time to press his hands to the glass for some semblance of a hold when Donghyuck slides back into him, warm chest lining up with Mark’s back neatly. Perfectly. Like it’s always meant to be like this.

Mark groans, hands spreading out, clawing at the slippery surface in a vain attempt to keep himself steady. Donghyuck keeps both of his hands wrapped around the smallest point of Mark’s waist, using the leverage to ram into him harder until Mark is crying out. He arches his back, the notches of his spine clicking together in an attempt to get closer to the burning pleasure licking up his back with increasing intensity.

There’s nothing that Mark can do but take it, pinned between the blistering heat of Donghyuck’s chest and the cool glass of the window he continually fogs up with each panting breath he takes. The duality of the feelings only adds to the haziness seeping through his mind slowly, the sparks dancing through every vein in place of blood. It’s delicious and Mark loves every second of it, just like before. Not like he’d ever admit that aloud, though.

One of Donghyuck’s hands slides up Mark’s side, curving its trajectory around to rest neatly at the base of Mark’s clavicle, index finger tapping twice gently against the hollow. Mark, in understanding, cranes his neck around so he can meet Donghyuck in a sloppy kiss.

After that, Mark stops fighting the fog that had been threatening to overtake his mind for a while now, and lets it overflow the walls he’d built up, spilling through his body until he’s perfectly pliant and blissful beneath Donghyuck’s every touch. Donghyuck, ever-attentive as he is, adjusts his stance so he’s better supporting Mark in case his leg decides to give out again. In moving like that, he manages to find the exact right angle that makes Mark’s toes curl against the unforgiving marble floor and white vignette close in on the edges of his vision. 

“Oh, _God,_ Hyuck, there, there, right there, I’m— _ah!”_ Mark loses track of what he’s saying rather quickly, but can’t bring himself to mind what filth pours from his lips: what he says, what he begs for, the fantasies he divulges without even knowing.

Donghyuck, although clearly amused by the looks of the gleam in his eye, must realize that Mark isn’t really aware of what he’s saying. Whether it’s to preserve Mark’s quickly diminishing pride or not, he may never know, but Donghyuck cups Mark’s jaw where it’s turned to the side, cheek pressed against the window, and covers Mark’s mouth with his own again. It’s less of an actual kiss and more just breathing in each other’s space, Mark trying to contain every bit of Donghyuck’s essence with each meeting of their tongues. Mark wants to tuck it all away and keep it for himself to admire later when he’s alone; he wants to wrap up every feeling, every sound, every taste, and neatly paperclip them all together and file it away in the organized cabinet of his heart for later observation.

This is the closest he’ll ever get to Donghyuck, Mark mourns. As much as he’s long-since accepted the reality of it—the unwavering cruelty of their position—it can’t stop him from wanting to keep every spare piece of Donghyuck all for himself while he has the chance. He wants to shatter Donghyuck simply so he will be the only one with the exact pieces to put him back together with. And Donghyuck seems more than willing to give and give and _give_ until Mark can’t take it anymore.

“Hyuck, Hyuck, _fuck,_ please, I—” Mark tries to grind his hips back to no avail; they’re stuck in Donghyuck’s bruising grip— “I need, please— can I—? I need to— can I come? May I come? Please? I’ve been good, I promise, I’ve been so good, Hyuck, _please!”_

The begging comes out, unbidden, but Mark’s too far gone to care at this point, too drunk on the feeling of Donghyuck in him, around him, touching every spare inch of skin that he can. As far as Mark’s concerned, it’s all gibberish right now pouring from his mouth: a litany of syllables he can’t keep track of but knows it’s all pleading for the thing he wants second most in the world right now, with the first being Donghyuck. He’s sure he’ll look back on it later and be absolutely mortified like he was last time, but Donghyuck takes it all in stride.

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Donghyuck says. For the first time, the pet name doesn’t sound condescending. It sounds exactly like it’s supposed to: sweet, adoring. “I’m right there with you, yeah?”

Mark gasps out a thank you that gets stuck somewhere between the back of his throat and his molars, never quite making it past the tip of his tongue when Donghyuck reaches around to close a fist around Mark’s cock, jacking him off in time with each thrust.

“That’s it, baby, come for me.” A tender kiss is placed on the back of Mark’s sweaty neck.

That does him in.

Mark bites his own lip so hard he tastes blood otherwise he would’ve screamed, and comes messily across Donghyuck’s fist and his own stomach. He lets out a muffled whimper when he realizes Donghyuck _isn’t stopping._

“Just a little more, hmm? Can you do that for me?” Donghyuck grunts, now slamming into Mark with bruising force. Mark nods, overwhelmed but sure of himself. Just when it feels like it’s too much and Mark opens his mouth to protest, it slows down, then stops.

He can feel Donghyuck filling up the condom inside of him, and Mark melts, slumping into Donghyuck’s arms, all strength now sapped from him.

“I’m gonna pull out now, m'kay?” Donghyuck murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of Mark’s neck.

“M'kay,” Mark replies, equally slurred and lazy, wincing as Donghyuck carefully extracts himself from Mark’s—rather sore and surely red and puffy—hole. He lets Donghyuck gently guide him to the leather sofa against the wall of the room, making sure he doesn’t fall off the moment he sits down. Satisfied with his work, Donghyuck plants a kiss on Mark’s forehead and murmurs something he doesn’t quite catch.

Unbothered, Mark lets himself drift in and out of coherency as Donghyuck busies himself with cleaning up and scavenging pieces of his clothing off of the floor and slipping them back on. Mark doesn’t even realize how long it’s been until Donghyuck’s shadow looms over him and he looks up to see him fully dressed and put back together again, looking as stupidly attractive as ever. A quick glance down at himself tells Mark that Donghyuck must’ve cleaned him up at some point, too, all the remnants of their activities now wrapped up in tissues in the trash.

“Eugh,” Donghyuck coughs, wrinkling his nose as he adjusts his tie, “we’re gonna have to _majorly_ air out your office.”

“Your fault,” Mark mumbles, waving him off as he prepares himself for the worst. He doesn’t want to have to see Donghyuck leave, so he lets his eyes slide shut once more. “Close the door on your way out, yeah?”

“What?” Donghyuck says, voice suddenly sharp. “Mark, what do you mean?”

Mark cracks an eye open. “It means I’d really like you to close the door when you leave,” he explains slowly, a patronizing edge slipping into his tone without trying. “I don’t really want anyone walking by and seeing me like this because it’ll be a minute before I can pull myself together.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Donghyuck crosses his arms, squinting down at him.

“I mean… not exactly, but you’re free to—”

“Then I’ll be staying,” he declares, plopping himself down on the couch right next to Mark, arm sliding around his shoulders. “I’m not _that_ much of a heartless bastard, Mark. You should give me a little more credit.”

Mark’s mind flashes back to the very first time, how he’d woken up tangled in cold sheets, still dirty from the night before. He hums noncommittally, leaning his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder.

He’s sure they make quite the picture right now: Mark with nothing but his socks and Rolex on while Donghyuck is fully dressed again, sitting on the couch in Mark’s office in a post-coital glow. But they’re still together, and that’s really all Mark cares about. He lets himself bask in the feeling for an extended moment before he draws away from Donghyuck with a groan, stretching his arms.

“Alright,” Mark murmurs, more to himself than anything, but Donghyuck is standing again in an instant, helping hand outstretched.

Mark gives it a skeptical look, but takes it anyway. Like the imbecile he is, he ends up stumbling straight into Donghyuck’s chest because his legs start to give out from under him the moment he puts weight back on them.

“Was that because of your leg or your ass?” Donghyuck groans, suddenly saddled with supporting most of Mark’s weight. He then breaks out in a grin, meeting Mark’s eye. “I’d gladly take responsibility for the latter.”

“That is, quite literally, just adding insult to injury,” Mark grumbles, deflecting because he doesn’t even know the answer himself. Donghyuck laughs at that, slipping an arm around Mark’s waist to steady him as he staggers around to collect his things, sliding clothes back on as he scavenges them from where they’re strewn across the room.

Once he’s dressed completely, leaning back against the edge of his desk, he takes stock of himself and immediately regrets it. One glance in the reflection of the window tells Mark everything he needs to know; he looks ruined. Thoroughly disheveled hair, clothes wrinkled to high heaven, and a button missing from his shirt all match up to make quite the image. He turns around, mouth halfway parted to say something, but Donghyuck is gone, the door quietly clicking shut.

Mark stares at the door for a moment in disbelief before he scoffs to himself. He really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the third time they’ve fucked and the third time Donghyuck has left after. He bites his lip, blinking hard as he eases himself back onto two feet steadily. A shake of his shoulders is all it takes before he’s back to work, beginning to reorganize the papers and other things that had been displaced in the heat of their little escapade.

The plug, miraculously, is still resting on the edge of the desk. Mark picks up the harbinger of his problems with a scowl before swaddling it in tissues and pocketing it, having no better place to put it at the moment than on his person. The last thing he needs is to accidentally leave it lying around for someone to stumble across by accident and come to their own wild conclusions.

Although Mark doubts whatever conclusions they could draw would be any wilder than the truth itself.

It sometimes baffles Mark, too, when he thinks about it. Star-crossed lovers turned enemies due to a generations-long family feud, now fucking in secret in a gaudy high rise downtown where they both work because there’s too much pent-up tension between them to handle. Maybe enemies isn’t the right word for it anymore, but Mark doesn’t know what a good substitute would be, so enemies it is.

He’s just about to sit down and get back to work when the door swings open, making way for Donghyuck to parade in without knocking—for the _second time today,_ if Mark may add. 

“What do you need this time?” Mark asks, leaning back against the desk.

“Let’s go,” is all Donghyuck gives to him in reply.

Mark looks at him strangely. “Go… where, exactly?”

“Home,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it isn’t. In fact, it only serves to raise even _more_ questions. Specifically, _why are they going home,_ and _whose home might they be going to,_ and Mark’s personal favorite, _why the hell are they going together?_

Mark shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I’m not following.”

“We’re leaving, c’mon,” Donghyuck beckons, car keys swinging around his index finger as he walks closer. “I’ll drive.”

“Wait, what about—” Mark looks around frantically at how much work he still has left to do. He wasted half a day and it shows in the piles of papers still stacked in neat piles, yet to be looked over.

Donghyuck puts a hand gingerly on Mark’s shoulder to stop his rambling before it has a real chance to begin, clearly unwilling to hear any of it. “Neither of us are going to get any more work done today. A shower and rest is all that should be on the agenda.”

“But—”

“Also, regarding your leg...” He pats Mark’s thigh over the wrinkled slacks. “Remember what I said last time about you operating motor vehicles when you’re like this?”

“It’s not that bad, Lee, I drove to work this morning just fine,” Mark argues. “And I still stand by my point of you being the one who’s a danger to me.”

“Oh, really?” Donghyuck smirks, leaning forward just enough for his lips to brush by the shell of Mark’s ear, hands dropping down to frame his waist delicately. “I don’t think I’ve shown you how dangerous I can be, sweetheart.”

Mark shakes him off. “That was disgusting and cliché,” he tells Donghyuck, deadpan. “Never say that again.”

Donghyuck just leans back, smiling brightly. “But did it work?”

The long, drawn-out sigh from Mark has Donghyuck laughing in an instant. 

“Are we gonna go or what?”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Mark pointedly doesn’t make eye contact with Jaemin as they head out past his desk, knowing full well the amount of shit he’ll get for it later. What Mark likes so much about Jaemin is that he’s clever and quick on his feet, but unfortunately for him right now, that means he’s more than smart enough to draw his own conclusions about things.

The drive is almost completely silent, and Mark tries not to think too hard about how Donghyuck remembers the way back to his place without asking. Despite the quiet, the atmosphere is pleasant, settling in over Mark’s bones like a warm, weighted blanket. He’s sure he would’ve fallen asleep had it taken any longer, but he forces himself to blink his eyes open once he spots the familiar parking garage.

Before Mark can think better of it, he finds himself asking, “Do you wanna come up?” He’s prepared for easy rejection, but what he isn’t prepared for is Lee Donghyuck, but that’s nothing new.

He jumps in his seat at the sound of Mark’s voice, tapping on the brakes sheerly out of reflex, before swallowing hard. “I— I mean, if you’re okay with that?”

“If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have offered,” Mark points out. “You can use the slot for my car since I don’t exactly have a need for it at the moment.”

Donghyuck glances at him before pulling in. “If you were going to be so salty about it, I could’ve just driven your car.”

“I’m not letting you drive my car.”

“Then stop complaining.”

“I was doing no such thing.”

“Subtextually, yes you were.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means I’ve won the argument,” Donghyuck concludes, turning the ignition off. “Let’s go.”

“I highly disagree,” Mark grumbles, but gets out of the car anyway, hauling his backpack with him. Jaemin used to make fun of him for it, but really, how else is he supposed to lug around a laptop and twenty-some pounds worth of files?

They walk side by side to the elevator that will bring them to Mark’s penthouse, so close that their shoulders and knuckles brush with every other step. It takes everything Mark has in him not to lose it completely before they get inside. Shaky hands punch in the code to the door, and Mark holds it open for Donghyuck to head inside first.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Mark announces, setting his backpack on the kitchen counter. “Feel free to join,” he adds, a split-second decision that he can’t bring himself to regret once he sees the shock painted across Donghyuck’s face, the satisfaction of taking him off-guard just too great.

For a while, Mark doesn’t think Donghyuck will take him up on the offer. He has grabbed a change of clothes from his closet, taken his contacts out, and is already lathering shampoo in his hair by the time he hears the bathroom door open. He turns away, pretending not to notice anything as he smiles to himself. The glass door to the shower slides open, and Mark shivers as a rush of cooler air hits him, but he’s quick to warm up again when it closes and a warm body presses against his back.

A second set of hands join Mark’s in his hair, massaging his scalp. Lips press against his shoulder carefully as Mark drops his hands, closing his eyes and letting Donghyuck do as he pleases.

“You can stop hogging the water any time, now,” Donghyuck whispers.

Mark’s eyes fly open as Donghyuck bites down gently on his earlobe, hands sliding down to press into the tense line of his shoulders.

“Lee—”

“That’s not my name, sweetheart,” Donghyuck murmurs, palms sliding down Mark’s skin in time with the water, coming to settle at his waist for just a moment before moving further down to—

Mark scrambles to turn around, shaking his head so vigorously that droplets from the end of his wet hair fly out to hit Donghyuck’s forehead. “Nope, no way. We are not doing this right now.”

“Aw.” Donghyuck pouts. “Then why’d you invite me in here?”

Mark ignores the comment, opting to lean his head back into the spray of water to rinse the shampoo out. “I’m already sore, asshole.”

“You mean you already have a sore asshole— _ouch!”_ Donghyuck yelps as he receives a rather harsh pinch to his arm for that comment. _“Hey!”_

“My point is that I’d like to be able to to walk into work tomorrow without a limp.”

“Glad to know my dick is that good.”

Mark levels him with a glare. If looks could kill, Donghyuck would be dead ten times over. “So help me I won’t get you off.”

“Oh, so you were planning to get me off?” Donghyuck cocks an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Certainly not anymore,” Mark scoffs, beginning to turn back away from Donghyuck when, all of a sudden, two familiar, sudsy hands find their way back to his waist, holding him in place. “What?”

“Let’s make a deal, then,” Donghyuck offers, taking stepping closer until their chests are touching. Mark feels immense satisfaction to find out that he’s taller, even if only slightly. “You get me off and I’ll return the favor.”

“And…?” Mark gives him a look that he can only hope conveys every bit of skepticism he has in his body.

“And what?”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean _that’s it?”_ Donghyuck crosses his arms. “It’s fair, then.”

“I prefer net gain, not net zero, if you get my drift.” Mark slips his hands down to grasp Donghyuck’s hips, tugging Donghyuck with him as he takes a step back so they’re both under the spray of the showerhead.

“Your terms are steep, oh great negotiator,” Donghyuck mocks, leaning in close enough for the water running off the bridge of Mark’s nose to hit Donghyuck’s lips, “so how about this? I’ll just owe you an extra one next time.”

Mark can’t help the way he chokes on his own tongue in surprise. “Next time?” he asks, voice barely loud enough to hear over the water. He immediately tries to pull himself together under the flimsy belief that Donghyuck hasn’t already seen right through him.

“Yeah.” Donghyuck looks Mark straight in the eye, clearly very aware of what he’s saying. “Next time.”

Mark tilts his head, pretending to contemplate the proposal for a moment as if he hadn’t made up his mind the moment it left Donghyuck’s lips.

“Deal.”

No sooner than the word leaves his mouth, Donghyuck’s hands are all over him, pushing him back against the wall, skimming down his chest and stomach to wrap around his dick. He doesn’t know when exactly he started getting hard, but by the time Donghyuck touches him, he’s already past a half-chub, and Donghyuck seems determined to get him further along as fast as possible. He connects their lips with enough force to knock Mark’s head back against the tile, but neither of them are particularly bothered by the way their teeth clash, tongues meeting in the middle.

Frankly, it’s a bit of a blur after that. Mark digs his fingers into Donghyuck’s shoulders as he teases him, swiping his thumb over the reddened tip of his slick cock with every other stroke just to see him squirm. Less than ten minutes later, Mark finds himself stifling a shout into his own knuckles as he comes all over Donghyuck’s fist for the second time that day, letting himself be worked through his climax until it becomes too much and he pushes Donghyuck away. His knees buckle dangerously, but between Donghyuck’s hold on his waist and the leverage he has against the wall, he manages to stay upright.

“Hey, hey, watch it,” Mark warns, panting as he smacks Donghyuck’s hand away. He’s oversensitive to the point of non-pleasurable pain and honestly can’t handle much more than what Donghyuck has already doled out today—both emotionally and physically. “That’s enough.”

Donghyuck raises his palms in defense. “Sorry, your highness.”

For that jab, Mark doesn’t waste a second in grabbing Donghyuck by the hips and spinning them around, pinning him to the wall instead. He reaches down and presses his thumb into the slit of Donghyuck’s cock borderline viciously, mostly just to see his reaction, but he doesn’t expect _this._

Donghyuck’s eyes roll back into his head as he makes some inhuman sound of desire, hands clawing uselessly at the slick tiles to his side before they fall onto the slippery skin of Mark’s chest for some semblance of purchase. He groans as Mark twists his wrist just right, head falling back against the wall in defeat.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” Mark asks, biting a bruise onto the base of his throat, just beneath the line of where a neatly starched collar would sit. 

“Shut up,” Donghyuck growls, but it turns into something of a breathy keen at the end as Mark picks up the pace. He’s hot and heavy and stupidly big between his fingers, and Mark can feel every twitch and pulse of his cock as he blazes straight toward the cliff with the intention of hurling Donghyuck off with reckless abandon.

“C’mon, baby, let go for me,” Mark whispers against his throat. 

He isn’t sure if it’s the words that do Donghyuck in or if it’s the way he presses the index finger of his free hand to his perineum or if it’s something else entirely, but before either of them can stop it, Donghyuck is coming with a rather undignified cry, digging his nails into Mark’s pecs in an attempt to ground himself.

They stay there for a moment, both of them breathing hard, foreheads pressed together and arms wrapped around each other’s bodies, letting the water rinse them clean. Despite the bare skin pressed to bare skin, Mark still wants to get closer. He wants to swing from Donghyuck’s ribs into his chest to see what he’s made of, what makes him tick, because there’s no other time he’s vulnerable enough to let Mark do such a thing.

Unfortunately, the opportunity is gone too quickly when an unfamiliar ringtone sounds from outside the glass door of the shower, and it snaps them both back to reality a little unpleasantly.

“Yours?” Mark asks, despite knowing that it’s the only possible answer.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck replies. “I’ll meet you out, then?”

He doesn’t leave room for Mark to respond because he’s pressing his lips to Mark’s shoulder and then he’s gone: hopping out of the shower and barely stopping to grab a towel before he’s out of the bathroom, too.

Mark can barely make out a, “this is Lee Donghyuck,” before the bathroom door closes and he’s alone again. Seeing no point in leaving now, he opts to stay under the water a bit longer, scrubbing his skin raw in some futile attempt to wash the memory of Donghyuck’s hands on him—and their collective sins—away.

By the time Mark finally turns the water off, it’s gone cold and the pads of his fingers have turned into miniature topographical maps of the Sahara. He gets dressed in an old university t-shirt and sweatpants half-blind before toweling off his hair and slipping his glasses on, choosing to skip the contacts because his eyes are starting to hurt with the beginnings of a headache.

He exits the bathroom to the smell of pad thai and the sight of Donghyuck opening an array of takeout boxes on the living room floor, dressed in Mark’s clothes and hair dripping onto a towel slung carelessly around his shoulders. He spots Mark and grins, waving him over with a pair of chopsticks.

“Food?” Donghyuck offers. “I figured you’d be hungry, so I got your favorite.”

“I could eat,” Mark replies, a little cautious as he walks over. “How do you know my favorite?”

Donghyuck hesitates before answering, “I remember you saying something a while ago…”

Mark knows he’s lying. Or, at the bare minimum, lying by omission, which is still lying. By the way Donghyuck’s eyes dart around, not quite meeting Mark’s gaze after he poses the question, it’s really not all that hard to tell. It also helps that Mark’s had years of practice seeing through the boisterous but ultimately façade he insists upon putting up at all times. It gets irritating and is no doubt at least partially responsible for many of their disagreements.

But, for the first time that Mark can remember, he consciously chooses not to pick a fight with him. Instead, he plops down on the other side of the takeout boxes from Donghyuck, cross-legged, and digs in with no more than a murmured word of thanks. The silence is stifling, so the go-to topic of conversation that they’re the least likely to kill each other over takes charge.

It’s truly surreal to be sitting on the living room floor of his own home, discussing movies over emptied takeout boxes and used chopsticks, both of them wearing Mark’s clothes and their hair still damp. At one point, Donghyuck says something that garners a surprised laugh out of Mark. Donghyuck looks at him curiously while he collects himself.

“What?” Mark says, defensive. He straightens up, bracing himself for the surely-incoming insult to hit home, but it never arrives. He looks over to see Donghyuck sitting there, chin steepled in his hands, and smiling.

It’s not any of his usual smiles that Mark has familiarized himself with. It’s not the cunning grin or the vindictive smirk that so often occupy those pretty features. This… this is something much tamer. It’s so small that if Mark hadn’t been paying so close attention he would’ve missed how it looked entirely: soft, unassuming, not a shred of malice to be found.

“Nothing,” Donghyuck says. “It’s nothing.”

Mark wonders if Donghyuck knows that Mark knows he’s lying. Probably, given the dusting of pink that makes its way onto the tips of his ears as he stutters and turns away, directing the conversation back to some theory about some show that he’s watching that Mark has long-since stopped really paying attention to.

Whatever is going on is bordering on civil conversation for the first time in years, and Mark feels like he’s floating. They both reach for the pot stickers at the same time, and Mark feels like a depraved Victorian man when their knuckles brush and his heart’s immediate response is to go absolutely haywire in his chest. 

Mark hasn’t even realized that the sun has begun to set until Donghyuck absently checks his watch and des a double take, wincing.

“I have to go,” he says, the apologetic tone surprisingly genuine for once. “I promised my brother I’d meet up with him tonight.”

“Jeno…?” Mark wracks his brain, hoping he’s pulling the right name out as he stands up, offering Donghyuck a hand.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Donghyuck sighs, grasping Mark’s outstretched palm to haul himself up. “Grimy little asshole. I haven’t seen him for two weeks— _two weeks,_ Mark!—and he’s already complaining about abandonment issues. I can’t stand him sometimes, I swear.”

“I get it,” Mark says, painfully honest. He knows about all of the missed calls on his phone from his own brother; the difference here is that he’s perfectly content to ignore them all, so-called abandonment issues be damned.

Donghyuck looks at him oddly, but chooses not to touch the subject. Another battle purposely avoided; an entire dynamic built upon years of loathing and regrets and rivalry shifts. There’s a light in Donghyuck’s eyes that wasn’t there before.

It’s kind of sad, but Mark can’t really bring himself to mind it when Donghyuck, this time, is the one to pull them together at the threshold of the penthouse and initiate a kiss so sweet that Mark _burns._

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then?” Donghyuck mumbles against Mark’s lips, nipping gently.

Mark snorts, “You did sort of strand me here without a car, so what other option do I have?” He gives Donghyuck a peck, physically having to hold himself back from offering to just let Donghyuck stay the night and leave Jeno hanging. The idea is tempting, but not realistic. Enough has changed for one day, and Mark doesn’t want to push so far that the fragile rubber band that makes up their relationship snaps straight back into place at square one.

“You got to work fine last time.” Donghyuck wrinkles his nose.

This is the first time they’ve truly acknowledged “last time” out loud. Mark feels his skin prickle with a distinct _something._

“I think I’d rather perish than have to go through the humiliation of Jaemin interrogating me when he comes to pick me up again,” Mark says, “so I expect you here a quarter to eight on the dot. Not a minute late.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Donghyuck salutes him.

There’s a gentle press of a kiss on his bottom lip, but as soon as Mark blinks, it’s gone, and so is Donghyuck.

Truthfully, Mark has no idea what’s going on between the two of them or where they stand anymore. Every step seems to be mapping out unknown terrain, but despite the stumbling, Mark’s determined to hold on this time. 

He knows he’ll do just about anything not to let Donghyuck go so easily this time, even if it means sacrificing parts of himself in the process.

* * *

**everything’s wrong with secretary na | 5:44pm  
**left those new reports on your desk  
oh btw hyung  
your whole office smells like sex  
you’re lucky the cleaning crew isn’t in tonight  
hope you were safe  
you owe me coffee and details later ;)

**Author's Note:**

> the end kinda ran away from me there idk what any of that was it was supposed to end when donghyuck first left mark’s office but instead you got emotional shower handjobs too i’m sorry
> 
> also shoutout to triscuit crackers bc i went through like five entire boxes while writing this


End file.
